


Eyes Peeled, Mouth Closed

by unrealityshift



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: ADHD Character, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Background Relationships, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Mentions of surgery, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Mouth trauma, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 19:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrealityshift/pseuds/unrealityshift
Summary: Prompto had always been told that he should be careful about running his mouth. He didn't realize that the warning could apply in a literal sense.(A trip to Crestholm Channels horribly derailed.)





	Eyes Peeled, Mouth Closed

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, wow. I haven't written in more than a year and this is my first work for this fandom. Long time lurker though, so hey there everyone. This is me filling my own kink meme prompt that I posted a while back in which Prompto accidentally bites his tongue off--don't have a link to the original prompt though. Figured I'd fill it myself, and well. It got away from me. Like reeeeeally got away from me. I expected it to be less than 3k words, haha whoops!! I am bad at math and also my brain is an ADHD nightmare.
> 
> Developing OT4 takin' a backseat for the fic, but it's there because my gay ass can't NOT have it there.
> 
> Proofread by my fiance and edited by myself; apologies for any errors.

It was supposed to be simple.

 

Rather, it was supposed to be as simple as their other retrieval quests had been. Which--given their track record--really wasn’t that simple at all, considering how smoothly the other ones had gone. The four men could count on one hand the amount of times that simple tasks had panned out as such, almost as if bad luck had a habit of following them, lingering above their heads like a persistent raincloud.

 

Headlights for the Regalia. They were just looking to retrieve headlights for the Regalia that a hunter had carelessly left behind in the sewers on the outskirts of Insomnia, as per Cindy’s surprisingly insistent request. “ _ Who knows, they might end up savin’ y’all’s hides,”  _ she’d said, cheery drawl tinged with an uncharacteristically intense concern that had been impossible for any of the prince’s retinue to ignore. 

 

So with the sun still high in the sky, the four had set out towards the checkpoint located just outside of Insomnia where the sewers themselves were nestled.  _ Crestholm Channels _ , Prompto’s mind supplied, having memorized a good amount of landmarks on the map Ignis carried around. Despite the fact that he was terrible with directions, he’d had a knack for remembering unique locations and made it his mission to keep track of places of note should they come up in conversation. Already feeling like he had a lot of slack to pick up, the gunner felt the need to stretch his odd talents however he could in order to feel of use to the others. Not like they’d ever made him feel as if he didn’t belong, no, but there was only so much they could do for his frenetic mind.

 

Well.

 

Maybe sometimes they’d made him feel less than secure about his belonging amongst them, but he was sure it wasn’t intentional. After the heart-to-heart he’d had with Noctis on the roof of the motel back in Old Lestallum, he sure hoped that was the case--just his anxiety running wild with the smallest of things, filling in blanks that weren’t really there and consistently misinterpreting harmless comments as malicious slights.

 

That was neither here, nor there.

 

What he did know for a fact, just like the others, was that this really was supposed to be a simple task. As simple as going through smelly, labyrinthian sewers was, at least.

 

They’d parked a couple hundred feet from the checkpoint itself to keep the Regalia out of the line of fire--damn Imperials, insisting on patrolling the border of a long-fallen city--and took out the scant amount of guards that still remained.

 

“Y’know,” Prompto pants as he dispersed his gun back into the Armiger, “what I’d like to know is why these guys are still hanging around here. Doesn’t make any sense!” He finishes, languidly stretching his arms over his head and groaning in satisfaction as his joints popped back into place.

 

“Since when has anything the Empire done made any sense?” Noctis grumbles as he rolls his shoulder with a grimace. Prompto huffs a laugh in response.

 

“Fair point, buddy!” He grins, offering finger guns to his best friend as he waltzed over to the two older members of their entourage to ensure that they too were doing alright after the brief battle. Ignis was cleaning his glasses with a cloth he produced out of Ramuh-knows-where whilst Gladio surveyed their surroundings, presumably seeking out the entrance to the sewers so they could get the headlights and be done with their task sooner rather than later.

 

“Think that’s it?” Gladio jabs his thumb in the direction of a high chain-link fence nearby, wiping the sweat off of his brow that had accumulated not from their quick bout of fighting but from the sweltering Leiden sun itself. Prompto squints before traipsing over to where his companion had gestured--seeing the telltale cautionary signs posted, warning wanderers to keep out due to the presence of daemons. With a grin, he nodded animatedly.

 

“Pretty sure you’re right, big guy!” Clapping his hands together, Prompto wheeled around on his heels and faced his companions. “Well, what do you say?” His gaze landed on Ignis, who had by now adjusted his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. “Should we go for it? What’s the plan, Igster?”

 

Ignis’s lips curled downward in a slight frown at the nickname, but otherwise didn’t address it. He’d grown used to Prompto’s penchant for using anything other than one’s given name and if he were completely honest, he didn’t entirely mind. It was rather endearing--not like he was particularly keen on saying that out loud. “I’d say we form a plan of attack first, so to say. There’s no telling what awaits us in the channels below.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another, crossing his arms over his chest as he thought. “From my prior research, the tunnels below are quite complex, and Cindy only gave us a vague description of where the hunter _ believed  _ he discarded the headlights.” A sigh, “We certainly have our work cut out for us.”

 

“Iggy’s right,” Gladio interjected, stepping closer to the fence and inspecting the warnings posted, “place is probably crawling with daemons, if these signs are any indication.” Noctis snorted off to the side.

 

“When haven’t they been wrong?” He replied, approaching the fence as well and regarding it with a sour look. “It’s never easy for us, is it?”

 

Prompto chuckled fondly, slinging his arm over his best friend’s shoulders and ruffling his mess of dark hair. “Yeah, but isn’t that what makes things interesting? Think about all the EXP in store for us down there!” Noctis raised a thin brow at his friend.

 

“Last time I checked, sewers are pretty smelly. Oh, and dark.” Prompto’s grin began to fall. “Did I mention cramped yet? Because I think they fit the bill for that too.” At this, Prompto let out a long-suffering whine.

 

“C’mon, Noct! Did you really have to bring that up?” He pouted, discomfort visible in his lavender eyes. Noctis grinned sardonically in response.

 

“Eh, you know. Someone’s gotta point it out,” Noctis laughed, wriggling out of Prompto’s hold to give him a firm slap on the back, “better me than Gladio or Iggy, though, right?” Prompto only deflated more, though his expression betrayed his despondent posture and let Noctis know that he did indeed have a point. Better for his best friend to point it out than Ignis or Gladio, both of whom Prompto felt he was not yet close enough to for that kind of playful bantering. At least, not close enough that his anxiety wouldn’t have a field day with misconstruing any teasing. Quite ironic, given the nature of their relationship.  _ Well, I do have more history with Noct, after all. _

 

“Gentlemen? If you are quite finished,” Ignis called out from his spot near the top of the staircase, already past the fence, “I do believe we have a goal to achieve before sunset, lest we wish to deal with even more daemons than the ones we are sure to encounter below.” Gladio was standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets and crooked grin plastered upon his face.

 

“Unless you ain’t up for the challenge?” Gladio teased, earning him a mildly scolding look from the advisor. The shield held his hands up, a sign of surrender--no harm, no foul--before redirecting his grin towards the two younger members of their group. Noctis rolled his eyes, patting his friend on the back once more before jogging to catch up with their group. Prompto huffed, tamping down any self-deprecating thoughts before they had the chance to fully manifest and falling in step behind Noctis.

 

The group descended the sets of dilapidated stairs in relative silence. The way down to the entrance was in far worse shape than any of them had anticipated, large blocks of debris scattered here and there--a wreck, honestly, but not unstable. It only took a few minutes before they were standing near a small, square hole in the concrete, dimly lit and flanked by only one slightly rusted ladder.  _ Poor excuse for a ladder, really, _ Prompto’s mind supplemented.

 

“...We sure this is it?” Prompto broke the silence with his nervous laughter. Gooseflesh was already raising on his exposed skin, clammy hands reaching up to clutch at his biceps as he peered down at the poor excuse of an entrance. He could already feel bile slithering up his throat, swallowing thickly as he wrestled with the panic attack he could feel blooming beneath his skin. Noctis gave him a pointed look, interpreting his demeanor as standard nerves that Prompto got before anything moderately daunting on their journey.

 

“Well, what else would it be?” The prince huffed a laugh, teasing grin on his face but concern shining in his eyes. He kept his mouth shut, however, not wishing to put Prompto on the spot and risk making him more uncomfortable than he probably already was. “Look on the bright side, it’s probably only cramped on the way down.”

 

“Ha, yeah, not helping there, buddy,” Prompto laughed, bitterness edging into his tone. 

 

“Now, now,” Ignis began, ready to put an end to any bickering before it began. The two immediately settled down, Noctis averting his gaze to the pit below as Prompto worked on regulating his breathing.

 

“So. Instructions?” Gladio grunted, rounding the hollow in the ground to peer down it alongside his charge.

 

“I’ll go first.” Noctis spoke up before Ignis even had the chance to think, already making the move to descend the ladder.

 

“Wait!” At Prompto’s sudden exclamation, his partners peered at him curiously. The words died in the gunner’s throat momentarily and he wet his dry, bitten lips with a flick of his tongue. “Gl-gladio’s right, uh…” He trailed off, searching for a way to finish his thought, “shouldn’t we figure out how to do this?” Noctis shot his friend a quizzical look, continuing his descent to the ladder.

 

“How to do, what, exactly?” He drawled, twisting his body to set one of his boots against the curved metal that served as the foothold for the ladder and clicking his tongue at the lack of grips on the sides. They were more like wall staples than anything.

 

“H-how we get down into the sewers, of course!” Prompto’s slightly shrill voice broke him out of his musing and he offered his friend a glance over his shoulder as he moved his feet down a few steps in order to get a good grip against ones placed higher up with his hands. He grimaced at the feeling of flaking metal beneath his ungloved hand.  _ Better take this slow, I guess, _ he thought. “Like, obviously you’re set on heading down first but--”

 

“I go after Princess to make sure he doesn’t get his ass handed to him,” A dry bark from the prince, “then Iggy goes after me to keep an eye on you, and you bring up the rear. Fair?” Gladio interjected. Prompto’s gut sank a little at the irritated look that had started to form on Gladio’s face, unsure if he was annoyed at Prompto’s own reluctance or the fact that they hadn’t figured out something as simple as how to get into the sewers in the first place. The logical part of the gunner’s mind told him that it was the latter, but the irrational, paranoid part of his mind whispered that it was more likely to be the former.

 

Not trusting himself to speak, Prompto only nodded curtly in response. Gladio, seemingly satisfied with this response, began his descent, followed shortly by Ignis and then Prompto himself.

 

“Don’t go slipping, now.” Gladio’s voice echoed through the concrete shaft. And then, silence, save for the tamping of their boots and smacking of their hands against the old metal.

 

A quarter of the way down, Prompto’s anxiety got the best of him, and he channeled it the safest way the current situation allowed. “Man, love being in dark, cramped spaces!” He chuckled, drawing out the ‘o’ sound as he slowly continued down the ladder with his companions. “Really  _ great _ how it just, sets off my claustrophobia!” His tone was edging on hysterical, grateful for his thick leather gloves acting as a barrier between his sweaty hands and the rusted bars. He spared a glance below him, heart surging as he also realized that  _ wow, _ sure was a hell of a fall if he lost his grip. His throat clicked as he swallowed, shifting his gaze back to the bars before him as he shakily descended. “No need for a reason, let’s never stop doing this.” He babbled, ears picking up the sound of feet hitting solid ground--Noctis, most likely completing his descent and landing on the damp concrete below. Shortly after, a heavier thud sounded, Gladio having finished his downward journey as well, punctuated with a grunt.

 

“Shut up before you fall and bite your tongue off.” He called out, wringing more nervous laughter out of the gunner as a sour look twisted onto his face.

 

“Oh yeah, that’d be the icing on the cake...” Prompto grumbled, moving at a snail’s pace compared to his friends as he heard the sound of another pair of feet meeting the concrete below, signalling that Ignis had finished his descent as well. His straining ears picked up soft footfalls--perhaps Noctis was already getting a head start and seeking out treasure and dead ends?

 

“Hey, Princess, wait up, Blondie’s still makin’ his way down!” Gladio’s voice faded as he presumably chased after their errant prince.

 

“I’m not going far!” True to his speculations, Noctis’s voice was distant as he explored the nearby area, punctuated by splashes as he strayed from the concrete into the shallow grey water below.

 

“Really, Noct?! The water?! The floor’s there for a reason!”

 

Prompto laughed to himself, already preparing some teases in his mind as a way of distracting himself from his own anxiety. Didn’t Noct know what was in sewer water? Boots or not, that shit (ha!) certainly wasn’t fun to wade around in if the pungent smell invading his nostrils was any indication. Who knows what his friend would come across, what he could contract? What would it be like fighting daemons in that sort of condition anyway? Prompto refrained from laughing again at the thought of Noctis eating shit (ha! another one!) in the middle of battle due to his carelessness of running off without at least one of his retainers next to him. Then again, probably not a good thing to be thinking, best friend or not--

 

“Prompto?” Ignis’s concerned voice snapped him out of his chaotic reverie. “Are you quite alright? You’re not even halfway down.” Prompto could practically hear the worried frown in his tone. “Do you require assistance?”

 

Well, if that didn’t feel like a slap to the face, intentional or not.

 

“Heh, I’m fine, Iggy,” Prompto responded loudly, sparing a glance over his shoulder and fighting against the pit forming in his stomach at the realization of just how far he still was from the ground. Fuck heights, seriously. Fuck heights in a cramped space, especially. Fuck heights in a dark, cramped space that smelled like-- _ okay, okay, not doing a good job of convincing him there, man, _ Prompto scolded himself. “Just gimme a few, okay? Keep an eye out for the big guy and Noct, yeah?” The gunner could’ve patted himself on the back for keeping the waver out of his voice but, well,  _ hands _ . Kinda could use all the help he could get from himself, here, sweaty palms notwithstanding.

 

A moment of silence passed between the two and then, “Yes, of course. I won’t be far. It would be irresponsible of me to leave you here on your own.”

 

“Don’t worry about that! Just make sure that there’s no daemons nearby and I’ll be fine!” Wow, Prompto almost had  _ himself _ convinced there.

 

“...Very well. I’ll go check up on His Highness and Gladio. It’ll just be a moment.” And with that, Ignis’s footfalls echoed off of the concrete walls before they were but a faint sound in the distance. Prompto could hear the clanging of metal not too far off-- _ huh, that was fast, daemons already? _ \--and took a deep breath. Might as well try to finish this up quick. He was already enough of an inconvenience as is and-- _ no, no, enough of that, not now _ . Steeling himself, Prompto continued to climb down.

 

All was going well until about three-quarters of the way down.

 

Prompto had thought that his slick hands would have caused him a problem but apparently, the Astrals seemed to be awfully fond of surprising him whenever it counted. With most of his descent nearly completed, his boot slipped as he miscalculated his footing. 

 

“Oh  _ shit _ , go--gghg--!!”

 

Falling, apparently, was the least of his worries.

 

\--

 

Ignis shook out his hands as the last of the Bussemands crumpled and dissolved back into the darkness that they had crawled out of. Adjusting his glasses and smoothing stray strands of hair out of his face, he regarded Noctis with a reprimanding look.

 

“Noctis.”

 

The prince in question tensed, wringing grey water-- _ ew _ \--out of his dark shirt and peering at Ignis through half-lidded eyes. “Uh...yeah, Specs?” He tried his best to look as shamefaced as the situation deemed necessary. It worked, judging by the only mildly reproachful sigh Ignis exhaled through his nostrils.

 

“...Do be more careful next time. It would save Gladio and I much stress if you didn’t run off like that. I’m sure Prompto would appreciate it greatly as well, seeing as it would too save him much anxiety.” Ignis surveyed the area around him, lips pursed. “Well, were he present at the moment, surely he would agree.”

 

Gladio released his greatsword into the aether, looking unusually put-upon by the whole situation. “What, small, blonde, and skittish ain’t with you? Thought you were waiting up for him.” Gladio folded his arms over his broad chest, looking more concerned with Ignis’s decision to catch up with him than the fact that his leather pants no doubt felt rather awful soaking in the dank water surrounding his calves.

 

“As did I,” Ignis began, removing his glasses in what the others had recognized early on as a nervous habit of his-- _ what do you know, even Ignis fidgets!  _ Prompto had supplied at the time--rubbing a clean corner of his sleeve over the lenses before replacing them, “however, he insisted that I make sure there were no daemons in the vicinity. I was merely abiding by his wishes.” Noctis clucked his tongue in disapproval. “I assure you, Your Highness, I was rather insistent on staying by his side, but he was quite determined to have his space. You know how it is.” 

 

Noctis rolled his eyes in response. “Well, yeah, of course I do, Specs. I  _ know _ Prom.” A pause, then, “Still don’t really agree with it.” Silence fell between the three of them. “...I mean, shouldn’t he have caught up by now?” Noctis, like Gladio, folded his arms over his chest. “I mean, shouldn’t he have charged in, guns blazing, to take down that last Bussemand? Or to at least get a selfie with it from a not-so-safe distance?” His eyes glazed over in worry.

 

Ignis opened and closed his mouth, unsure of how to respond to his charge.

 

“...” Noctis sighed again, running a grimy hand through his hair, “doesn’t something just feel...off to you?” He glanced between his Advisor and Shield. “You know Prompto. He wouldn’t want to be alone in a place like this. He would’ve darted over here the second his feet hit solid ground.” Noctis huffed out a laugh. “I mean, hell, he probably would’ve face-planted in the water on his way over.”

 

Silence again, and then, “...wait, you don’t think that happened, do you?” Noctis continued with a nervous chuckle. “I mean, leave it to him to drown in less than a foot of water, yeah?” Gladio stepped closer to the prince, who was bordering on hysterics now. “I’m totally overreacting, yeah? Tell me I’m overreacting, Gladio. Specs, c’mon, inject some logic into the situation or whatever.” His eyes darted frantically between his two older partners.

 

Just as Ignis opened his mouth yet again, this time words poised on the tip of his tongue, he heard gurgling in the distance.

 

“...did you hear that?”

 

Gladio and Noctis don’t say a word, straining to pick up on what Ignis has heard.

 

“...there it is again.”

 

“There  _ what _ is, Iggy?”

 

A finger poised in the air, “Hush.”

 

“...”

 

Another moment of stagnant air, pregnant silence and then--

 

More gurgling, punctuated by a whimper, then the sound of something wet splatting against the worn concrete.

 

“...near the ladder…?” Ignis murmured under his breath, brows furrowed before they shoot up towards his hairline. “...Oh, Astrals, no.”

 

“Hey, Iggy, you mind spitting it ou--” Gladio doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought before Ignis is rushing away, towards the spot where they entered the sewers. “--hey!” Gladio shouts after him, his long legs making up for the headstart Ignis got.

 

“Oh, what the hell--?” And then Noctis is hurrying after them, pulling one of Ignis’s daggers out of the Armiger to cover the distance by warping to catch up with the two taller men. “Ignis, what the hell, you gonna tell me why you--oh,  _ fuck _ .”

 

Well.

 

That certainly answers several questions.

 

_ So much for a simple “fetch quest”, huh? _

 

“Oh,  _ Astrals above _ , Prompto, I shouldn’t have left--”

 

“ _ Fuck _ , kid, what the hell--”

 

Noctis’s head felt numb, like a bunch of killer wasps had begun to buzz around in his brain and cloud it up with one of their nasty bouts of confusion-inducing fog. This couldn’t be happening, right? He was totally seeing things, right? This was just a really bad, tasteless prank on his best friend’s part-- _ haha, made you look, Noct! Boy, you should’ve seen your face! _ \--wasn’t it?

 

Shifting his focus between Ignis and Gladio felt like wading through thick mud in the Slough in Duscae, desperately trying to grapple with how to react to the situation. His Shield and Advisor definitely knew what to do in a pretty dire situation like this, didn’t they?

 

But no, apparently not--they seemed just as lost and bewildered as Noctis felt. His Shield stood there, fists clenching and unclenching, jaw tight and amber eyes burning in concentration. He was probably debating on if he should give their youngest partner a wide berth or if it would be a better choice to sling him over his shoulder, no questions asked, and storm right out of there. His Advisor was looking rather ashen, lips stretched into a thin line as he crouched before their companion slumped over in muted agony.

 

Prompto was completely out of it, no surprise.

 

After all, Noctis was sure he’d be in the same headspace if he were bleeding profusely from the mouth with what appeared to be a piece of his tongue resting innocuously in a puddle of blood and saliva before him.

 

Gladio’s jaw clicked as he opened his mouth, only for it to snap shut as Ignis’s wild verdant eyes pierced right through him. Surprisingly, the Shield reigned in any volatile emotions that threatened to spill forth, thankfully sensing that such a situation needed to be handled with a more delicate touch.

 

“Prompto, what--” Ignis caught himself, quite aware that their companion wouldn’t be able to tell them what had happened. Noctis shot his Advisor a look, perturbed at his unusual lack of grace and poise. The dim fluorescent lights caught on the lenses of his glasses as he adjusted them yet again, breathing deeply in an attempt to ground himself.

 

“Okay, pretty sure this is an urgent situation that requires, you know,  _ urgency _ ?” Noctis snapped, falling to his knees to wrap an arm around his best friend’s quivering shoulders. Prompto didn’t acknowledge it, probably doing his best to focus on not panicking as best as he could--even if it did seem to be a little late for that. Prompto was shuddering violently, cold sweat rolling down his forehead and torso, snot dripping from his nose and curling beneath his chin before mingling with the thick tears and saliva already there.

 

“Apologies,  _ Highness _ ,” Ignis replied tersely, a quiver in his tone, “have you encountered a situation like this before? Do  _ you  _ know what to do in the case of one biting their own tongue off? Because if you do,  _ kindly  _ enlighten me, as I have never been trained to handle such a scenario.” Another deep breath, this one more shuddering than the last.

 

“Well, standing around sure as hell isn’t going to do anything!” Noctis all but shouted, eyes misty.

 

Any further retorts were effectively cut off by a wet, gurgling whimper from the gunner, bloodied hands quivering in front of his folded knees. From the looks of it, it was almost as if he’d tried to catch the severed piece of his tongue before fumbling with it from shock. At least, that’s what Noctis thought.

 

“Save the bickering for later, Prompto needs help now.” Gladio spoke up, finally making up his mind to crouch beside their injured partner and scooping him up into a bridal carry. “Mouths have a lot of blood, yeah, Iggy?” Ignis blinked at being addressed, hurrying to regain what little composure he had remaining.

 

“Y-yes, I believe so, Gladio. That much, I do know.”

 

“Pretty sure I’ve heard they can heal pretty quick?”

 

“Why don’t we use a potion or an elixir on it,” Noctis began to interject.

 

“‘Fraid that ain’t a good idea, Princess.” Gladio grunted as he rose to his full height, Prompto clutched closely to his exposed chest. “It doesn’t look like only a little of it is missing, and even if we did bring that thing,” he gestured to the severed tongue on the damp concrete, “I’m not too sure that it’d be a good idea to try and reattach it ourselves. Potions aren’t cure-alls, and there’s no telling what nasty shit it’s probably already picked up from being on the ground that long.”

 

“I’m afraid I agree with Gladio,” Ignis added, helping Noctis back to his feet. “We should get him to an emergency room post-haste and hope that we can find a specialist of some sort there. A medical professional, at the very least.” He offered the prince a weak smile. “Someone that is versed on how to handle a situation better than those with barely above-average first aid knowledge.”

 

A soft choking sound pulled the three out of their conversation, attention now laser focused their injured partner. Prompto’s head was tilted back slightly, the blood from the wound on his tongue no doubt flooding the back of his throat at an uncomfortably fast rate.

 

“Gladio--”

 

“Already on it,” The Shield grunted, tilting the sweating gunner’s head forward to allow the blood to spill freely from his mouth and onto his Crownsguard-issued tank top. Prompto whined blearily in response.

 

“It’s alright, Prompto. Bloodstains on your clothing is the least of our concern at the moment, and nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” Ignis took another steadying breath, turning to fully face his charge. “Noctis, we should make haste back to the Regalia. Gladio, keep Prompto in the backseat with you, and make sure his head is tilted forward. In his current condition, I cannot imagine that swallowing is very easy. It would be better to keep the blood out of his throat and potentially his lungs as well.” Ignis made his way back towards the ladder, pausing at the base of it. “And Gladio, will you be able to make the climb--”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Iggy. Blondie here doesn’t weigh that much,” A short chuckle, “I’ve handled worse.” He finishes with a smug grin in Noctis’s direction, though it falls a bit flat due to the tight concern in his bright eyes.

 

“Good. Now Noctis,” He focuses his attention back on the prince, “you have a very important task. I need you to contact Ms. Aurum and inform her of the situation. The drive back to Hammerhead will be a few hours, and perhaps in that time she will be able to at least get in touch with a competent medical professional to help us handle the situation.” Noctis nodded in understanding, worry still tight in his brow.

 

“...A few hours?” He spared a glance at Prompto, whose eyes were glossier and more unfocused with each passing minute. “Shit, you think that it’ll be okay for that long? Are you sure we can’t risk a potion?”

 

“...I’m not.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Adjusting his glasses yet again, Ignis offered his prince a pinched look. “Noctis, I am not sure. I honestly do not know how to handle this situation. I do not even know how this happened, and I cannot help but feel as though I am at fault for not remaining at his side. My duty is to you, yes, but I should not have left Prompto behind like that.” The Advisor clutched at his bicep, folding in on himself. “Perhaps this could have been avoided, if only I had stayed by him.” Noctis had to strain to hear Ignis at this point, his voice barely a whisper.

 

“Ignis…”

 

Suddenly, the Advisor straightened himself up, watching the impressive feat of strength Gladio was pulling off as he ascended the old ladder one-handed, careful to keep their shivering companion as still as possible in his grasp.

 

“I can mull over this later, analyze mistakes made, dwell on my own shortcomings,” He began his own climb back up the ladder, “but for now, Prompto’s wellbeing and safety is most important.” Another grimace stretches across his face. “I do not know how to handle internal injuries to the mouth, but I’m sure there is something in our first aid kits that can at least help mitigate the situation. For now, we have dawdled quite enough here. Come along.” With that, Ignis ascends, matching Gladio’s pace.

 

Noctis hangs back for a moment, regarding the severed, bloodied piece of tongue once more. It looks like no more than a third of the organ, bitten into nearly a neat U-shape. He watches his retainers climb, sparing yet another glance at the bit of tongue. Against his better thoughts, Noctis quickly bends down and scoops up the slimy piece, clutching it to his chest. Useless or not, Noctis cannot bring himself to leave it behind.

 

\--

 

They’re back to the Regalia in less than fifteen minutes, piling into the sun-warmed vehicle and pushing the speed limit as Noctis relays the situation to Cindy over his phone. She sounds rightly horrified, and the conversation is short as she promises to seek out what medical attention she can. Noctis can only hope that they manage to find something--someone--good enough by the time they arrive.

 

In the interim, Gladio is sitting stiffly in the backseat, hand wrapped in a vinyl glove as he holds gauze to the remnant of Prompto’s tongue. Said gunner is curled into Gladio’s side, head leaned forward as blood continues to steadily ooze from the gaping wound in his mouth.

 

“It’s not stopping, Iggy.” Noctis’s voice quivers as he twists around in his seat, taking in the scene before him in trepidation. “It’s not stopping.” A panicked lilt has seeped into his tone.

 

If Ignis begins to speed a little more, no one comments on it--Noctis too concerned, Gladio too preoccupied, and Prompto too dazed.

 

They arrive in Hammerhead half an hour earlier than expected. However, it’s almost as if Cindy had planned for this, a stocky older woman with sun-kissed skin and thick, dark hair pulled into a loose plait standing beside her as the group hurriedly parks the Regalia.

 

“You boys’re in luck,” She starts, voice tinged with worry, “an old friend of mine,” she gestures to the woman next to her, “was in town, n’ she happens to be buddies with some doctors that’re travellin’ around n’ helpin’ the hunters.” She stands back as Gladio lumbers out of the vehicle, Prompto still clutched closely to his chest. An unfamiliar caravan is stationed near the garage, baring a medical logo on its side. “Y’all just bring him in there n’ they’ll get to work helping him as best as they can.” She gives the group a tight smile. “They’re professionals, n’ highly trained at that. Y’all can trust that they’ll patch your buddy up real well.” 

 

“We can’t thank you enough for this,” Ignis starts as he exits the Regalia, Noctis already rushing off to the medical caravan with Gladio in tow. “I assure you, we will compensate you as best as--”

 

“Aw, shucks, I don’t need nothin’ from you boys.” Cindy interrupts, placing a reassuring hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “I’m sure the doctor’s’ll say the same thing. All they ever ask for in return is supplies so they can keep helpin’ folks out. Y’all don’t need to worry about anything other than Prompto over there makin’ a good recovery.”

 

“...You have my utmost thanks, Ms. Aurum.” And with that, Ignis hurries after his companions, rapidly blinking his eyes in an attempt to curtail his tears.

 

\--

 

“...ompto…”

 

_ Huh? _

 

“Pr…”

 

_ Who’s…? _

 

“are...there…?”

 

_ I’m… _

 

The next coherent thought Prompto has is, well, far less coherent than he would like it to be. It still feels like he’s wading through molasses, brain steeped in a thick fog, but at least his mouth isn’t hurting. In fact, he can’t really feel it.

 

_ Wait...my mouth…? _

 

Prompto tries to wiggle his jaw, only to realize that well, he doesn’t really have one.

 

Or at least that’s how it feels.

 

No, that’s not quite it…

 

“...you with us?”

 

Blearily, Prompto opens his eyes, squinting against the fluorescent glare that immediately assaults his senses.  _ The hell…? _

 

“...urrrg…” Is all he’s able to manage in the end.

 

“Now, now, please, let him refrain from speaking. The anesthetics most likely haven’t worn off yet, and he’s in no condition to talk.”

 

_ Wait, what do you mean I can’t talk,  _ he tries to say.

 

“Oouu,” is all he manages to get out.

 

“See, Noct, what did the doctor just say? Now he’s gonna try to start up again.” Gladio’s tone is teasing but...distressed? What the hell? Through the fog of what Prompto now knows is anesthesia, he desperately tries to piece together the gaps in his memory. They were at the sewers, Crestholm Channels, to look for super-powerful headlights Cindy had recommended. The entrance was a crazy spooky hole in the ground with a piss-poor excuse for a ladder leading down into the dank depths. He’d been climbing down it, making good progress, and then…

 

Oh yeah.

 

That.

 

Prompto narrowed his eyes as he vaguely recalled losing his footing, yelling out in surprise only for his jaw to come snapping shut and then--

 

White-hot agony.

 

Lots of phlegm--no, wait, blood? Saliva? All of those things?

 

Falling to his knees, curled over in pain, shaking hands filling with thick blood and--his own tongue?

 

He recalls recoiling in shock, dropping the piece of his tongue to the damp ground below-- _ no, no, that’s really bad, shit _ \--before rocketting into one of the worst panic attacks he’s sure he’s ever had in his entire life. He remembers gurgling uselessly as he tried to call out for help, in disbelief of what had happened, but not much outside of that. Snatches of memory--Gladio’s warm embrace, the press of gauze in his mouth, choking on his own blood and saliva as his body seemed to forget how the hell he was supposed to swallow, the heat from the Leiden sun beating down on his clammy forehead as someone (Ignis?  _ Really? _ ) drove the Regalia faster than he’d ever felt it go.

 

For the most part, however, his memories are a blur.

 

“Now then,” Prompto perks up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice-- _ oh yeah, the doctor _ \--and zeroes in on the conversation as best as he can through the haze wrapped around his mind. She’s a short, older woman--mid-40’s, probably--with dark, freckled skin, wire-framed glasses, and thinning hair pulled away from her face in a neat ponytail, wearing what Prompto’s sluggish mind deems to be par-for-the course medical attire.

 

“What we have performed is a flap procedure on your friend. We replaced as much as we could of his missing tongue. It’s not ideal, however the procedure is known to be quite successful.” The doctor begins. “The sutures in his mouth have been anchored well, so you won’t need to worry about them coming undone with the tongue’s natural movements.” The doctor jots some notes down on a small slip of paper. “As for aftercare, he’ll need to be kept on a soft diet for the next few days to allow the wound to heal properly. Mouth injuries tend to heal rather fast, but I recommend that you don’t take any chances.” She continues to jot down a few more notes for the group. “Be sure he washes his mouth daily with a dilute peroxide rinse that we’ll provide you, and that should aid in the healing process and ensure that there are minimal complications.” The doctor looks between the four young men. “Again, the healing process should be rapid, given the nature of the wound and its location. I don’t think I should have to say this, but be sure he doesn’t pick at his sutures. I understand it’s a very unusual sensation, but doing so risks failure of the procedure and infection.” The doctor rips the page she was writing on off of her pad and hands it to Ignis who looks it over to ensure that he can parse it.

 

“Is there anything else we should know, doctor?” Ignis says after a moment of studying the notes. She nods.

 

“There shouldn’t be any complications, but if there are, please bring him back here so we can do what we can to help him. There is always a risk of infection and we have updated his tetanus shot, seeing as the injury was caused by a human bite. Self-inflicted or not, we don’t want to take our chances.” She glances at his left shoulder with a frown. “He’ll be sore at the injection site for a few days, but there should be no issues with that.” She pauses for a moment, lifting a the side of her index finger to her lips in thought. “I don’t believe permanent nerve damage will be an issue, since the window between his injury and the surgery was relatively narrow, but there could be...lasting effects.” At this, Gladio’s posture straightens.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like decreased mobility of the tongue. He may have issues with speech in the future, as well as issues with swallowing.” She lets out a short sigh, “However it’s far too early to tell if any of this will be an issue. Only time will tell.”

 

“...Thank you. I appreciate all the information you’ve given us, and we deeply appreciate your help. If there’s anything--”

 

The woman cuts Ignis off with a bark of laughter. “Please. Don’t worry your pretty little head over that.” She pats him firmly on the shoulder as she passes him. “Just see to it that your buddy there is more careful and that you let us know if anything changes. We’re not doing this for the money.” Her expression becomes grim for a moment. “We just want to help out whoever we can.” A heavy silence hangs in the air before she breaks it with a huff. “Anyway, contact info is written on the notes I gave you. You can reach us at any time. For now, just relax for a little bit. If it’s alright with you, we’d like to keep your pal here a little longer for observation.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Ignis starts.

 

“As long as we can stay with him.” Noctis finishes.

 

The doctor fixes the prince with a look, narrowing her eyes as she gives him a once-over before a look of recognition lights up her features. She adjusts her glasses with a soft chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned, Cindy wasn’t lying…” She mumbles under her breath.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Nothing,” The woman laughs with a shake of her head, “but of course.”

 

“...Huh?”

 

This time, the woman lets out a hearty chuckle. “Of course you can stay, kid’s gonna need all the support he can get--especially from those that seem to love him so much.” Before Noctis can offer any sort of response, she’s out of the room, leaving the four young men alone--Prompto, laying on the surprisingly comfortable cot, Noctis at his side, and Ignis and Gladio near the door.

 

“...what now?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Well, what now?” Noctis repeats, looking up at his Advisor with glassy eyes. “We did what we could. What now?” Ignis’s lips part in thought.

 

“We wait.” He manages after a beat.

 

“...Right.”

 

Another heavy silence settles over the room. 

 

“Your Highness?” Ignis is the one to break it.

 

“Yeah?” Noctis responds, bewildered.

 

“...May I?” He gestures to the seat his prince is occupying. Noctis fixes his Advisor with a confused look before he processes what the other man is asking for.

 

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure.” He nods as he quickly vacates his seat, stumbling a little as he stands at his best friend’s bedside. Ignis offers a grateful smile as he settles into the chair Noctis was previously occupying, reaching out to grasp Prompto’s still-gloved hand firmly in both of his.

 

“Prompto.”

 

The gunner regards Ignis with a confused look of his own, lips parting in an attempt to speak. Ignis holds his hand up. “In due time. For now, I would appreciate it if you refrained from speech, if only to aid with your healing. I wish to avoid as many complications as possible.” Prompto immediately sinks further into his pillows, nodding shortly in understanding.

 

Ignis is silent as he gathers his thoughts, bare thumb running over the exposed section of the back of the gunner’s hand. He briefly marvels at how smooth the pale, freckled skin is, offering a small prayer to the Astrals for something as minute as that to remain unchanged.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Prompto sits up at this, confusion practically radiating from his pores. With one hand, Ignis gently urges his companion to lay back down. 

 

“Please, Prompto...let me finish. If not for you, then for my own selfish sake.” The gunner seems to be displeased at Ignis’s choice of words, but remains still in compliance. Ignis inhales shakily. “I cannot help but feel as though this could have...that I could have…” With the same hand Ignis eased Prompto back with, he rubs at the bridge of his nose, nudging his glasses up towards his forehead. “I should not have abandoned you like that. Perhaps if I had been there...perhaps I could’ve made sure that you weren’t hurt.” Prompto’s expression quickly shifts from confused to distressed, the most lucid he’s looked and behaved since he regained consciousness. Frantically, the gunner paws at his pockets before retrieving his phone, surprisingly undamaged from the whole ordeal. Gently extricating his hand from Ignis’s firm hold, Prompto begins to quickly punch out a message. Moments later, Ignis’s own phone buzzes in his slacks.

 

_ Don’t blame yourself for this, Iggy. _ The message reads.

 

“But Prompto--” The gunner holds up his hand yet again, brow pinched as he frantically composes another message.

 

_ This isn’t your fault. Even if you had been there, I don’t think you could’ve stopped me from slamming my jaw down on my tongue when my foot slipped. _

 

“Yes, well--” Prompto raises his hand yet again. Ignis’s phone buzzes in his hand not a moment later.

 

_ And don’t say that you could’ve prevented that too. It was just bad luck. A bunch of shitty things happening all at once. It’s my fault for being clumsy and scared, not yours for doing your duty and trusting that I would be alright. Please. I can’t take it. _

 

_ You blaming yourself, that is. _

 

Prompto offers a wry smile, eyes wet with unshed tears. Ignis continues to remain silent as the gunner pokes away at his touch screen.

 

_ It’s not your fault. It’s not. I shouldn’t have been running my mouth and I shouldn’t have been scared or slow. _

 

“Allow me to stop you there, please.” Ignis’s voice is strained as he presses Prompto’s shaking hands to his own lap, effectively cutting off his current form of communication. “This is something we should all learn from. You were scared and we were not taking it as seriously as we perhaps should have been. We all should have waited for you, been there for you.” Prompto’s hands twitch beneath the Advisor’s. “Yes, we trust your abilities, and yes, we know that you would have without a doubt made it down with us, but we made you feel pressured and that’s...that’s not alright.” Ignis regards the Shield and his prince, lips twisted in a bitter smile. “We will do better in the future. This, I can promise you.” He squeezes the gunner’s gloved hands in his own.

 

Prompto loosens his grip on his phone for a moment, offering a shaky smile before wiggling his hands out from underneath the Advisor’s grasp. He unlocks his phone, this time opening up a group message.

 

_ Thank you. I love you. _

 

Nothing else needs to be said, Prompto thinks as he’s immediately enveloped in a warm embrace, temples and forehead gently peppered in kisses from his companions--his  _ partners _ , he corrects himself, reminds himself. For once, the rest can go unspoken.

 

\--

 

A few weeks later, the incident is a shadow in the back of their minds.

 

“Hey, Noct?” Prompto starts from his spot perched on the edge of the haven next to his best friend. His speech is only a little slurred, still getting used to the new shape and structure of his tongue. The stitches had fallen out naturally a while back.

 

“Yeah?” The prince asks, barely breaking focus from an intense bout of King’s Knight.

 

“What did you ever do with the part of my tongue that you found?”

 

Noctis’s fingers fumble uselessly over his phone--a match lost,  _ dammit _ \--and he regards the gunner with wide eyes.

 

“What the hell?” Prompto grins sheepishly and shrugs, diverting his gaze to the blanket of stars above them.

 

“I dunno, I just...had a feeling you tried to do something about that.”

 

“...”

 

“Well?”

 

“The doctor got rid of it, why?” Prompto chuckles at this. “What?”

 

“Y’know…” Prompto starts solemnly, folding his hands in the space between his legs, “I half-expected you to try and put it in the Armiger or something.”

 

“...”

 

“...”

 

“... _ what?! _ ”

 

By the campfire, Ignis and Gladio have never been happier to hear the gunner’s shrieking.

**Author's Note:**

> astrals take this thing AWAY FROM ME


End file.
